Signs
by captainvegemite
Summary: Sometimes we all need a heads up to get us moving in the right direction. Shandy, late season 3.


**A/N: Hey, everyone! Those of you that actually pay attention will notice that this is an edited and reuploaded version of this story. I reread it the other day and realised it didn't make sense in the slightest.**

 **So, this is set sometime after 3x17, but pre 3x19. It's up to you when that is. Okay, have fun!**

 **Hugs and butterfly kisses,**

 **colonelvegemite**

* * *

The day she revealed everything to me also seemed to be "Make Andy Flynn's Life Difficult" day.

The coffee machine in the break room practically exploded, spraying froth and foam all over my new navy blue tie, the air conditioning in the office was on the fritz – and to top it all off, Sharon was acting really weird. Not like "Rusty's sick" or "my shoes broke" sort of weird – but as if she had a secret so big, she was bursting at the seams to tell someone.

At 11:00am on the dot, her heavy office door opened slowly and she emerged into the blue-walled murder room, white teacup in hand, having shed her navy blue blazer due to the heat. Her bell-sleeved white dress flowed down to her sensible black stilettos, the usual staccato following her footsteps. Her auburn hair was down, framing her face and swishing lightly as she moved, also colliding the side of her glasses.

She seemed to catch me staring, her cheeks going a shade of pink as she moved to the cooler confines of the hallway; she looked back over her shoulder, eyes meeting mine.

"Lieutenant Flynn, could you please come to the break room? I would like to speak to you."

I swear Sharon could break hearts with a single look.

The fact that Provenza murmured "idiots" as I passed his desk going out the door didn't even register until much later. Poking my head out the door to see if the coast was clear (provoking a snort and a slight giggle from Sharon), I wrapped my arms around her petite waist, revelling in the warmth she could provide despite being a head and a half shorter than me.

Pulling back, she gave me a look so soft and loving, I was going weak in the knees. My hair may be greying, but the mere fact she can do that to me is a sign that I'm not as old as my daughter seems to think I am. Taking my hands in hers, I felt something cool against my hand, not cold enough to freeze me solid but enough to make me stop in my tracks.

As soon as the metal hit my palm, I knew there was something bigger she was trying to tell me.

But a key? What in the hell am I supposed to do with a key?

Considering the fact that access to the police administration building is with a key card, I had no idea why Sharon would hand me a damn poor excuse for metal that would definitely break at the earliest contact with a lock. Rusted with age, the ornate head, speaking with the familiarities of times gone by, brushed against my fingertips as I rotated it in my palm. I looked up into her waiting green eyes, her gaze soft as she seemed to study my reaction.

"Andy, please, this is important to me," she sighed. Her gaze dropped to the floor as she seemed to deflate. She tapped her fingers on her hip in subdued impatience. Sharon Raydor was not the kind of woman I wanted to upset, especially when she was finally comfortable with being this intimate with her thoughts and feelings.

It makes me wonder how often she's had this argument over the years. It's not exactly a secret that her slimy maggot of an ex-husband was less than faithful to her – the mere fact he left her with two small children and ran off to Vegas with their life savings should have been a sign. The final straw was him turning up drunk on her couch, left with Rusty.

I looked at her with a new perspective.  
She is the woman who waited her entire life for love, only to have it thrown back in her face.

"Don't worry; I'll keep it safe for you."

The words escaped my lips before I got a chance to think.  
What the hell was I getting myself into? I mean, I trusted her completely and all, but this was insane. Her face lit up like Christmas morning (absolutely beautiful as usual) and she moved in to wrap her arms around my neck.

Then she surprised me.

Her lips met mine, giving me a lingering kiss goodbye – she hums through the kiss, revealing the passion she has held through the hardship.

Straightening her hair and glasses, she takes a step back and clears her throat.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," she nods – clearly back to being the Captain.

She sashayed down the corridor in her four-inch heels, seemingly giving an extra sway of her hips for my benefit - her perfectly curled auburn hair flips behind her, and she acted as if nothing just happened. She left me breathless against the tangerine-coloured wall, my hands seeking something solid to hold on to – to confirm what really just occurred.

God, that woman. She's going to be the death of me someday.

Shaking thoughts of Sharon out of my head, I look down to the diminutive item in my hand.

That's when it hit me.

This is the sign.

She's finally opening up.

And she's just given me the key to her heart.


End file.
